


things we see (aren't always what you get)

by piss_soda



Category: Unus Annus - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Delusions, Dissociation, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Psychosis, Schizophrenia, but. yk. polyamory, ethan whump aha, probably anyway fkdjg, woah that's a lot of ship tags sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28338222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piss_soda/pseuds/piss_soda
Summary: Shadow monsters and strange bumps in the night are assumed to only happen to children and the seriously sleep-deprived.At least, Ethanhadassumed so until he experienced them as a healthy, twenty-four-year-old man.(basically, Ethan starts having hallucinations.)
Relationships: Ethan Nestor & Tyler Scheid, Ethan Nestor/Tyler Scheid, Mark Fischbach & Amy Nelson & Ethan Nestor, Mark Fischbach & Ethan Nestor & Tyler Scheid, Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor/Tyler Scheid
Comments: 16
Kudos: 86





	things we see (aren't always what you get)

**Author's Note:**

> debated giving this one Main Account Privileges for a while - then i decided it was a Tad too fucked up and Not something i'd want my irls to see, so you bitches get it !!
> 
> anyway, the summary sucks, sorry about that. i promise the actual story is better sskjfd

Ethan is starting to think he’s going crazy. 

It starts suddenly, with no real warning other than a creeping sense of paranoia and stuttering heart turning every corner, and he’s not sure what to make of it. 

There are footfalls in Mark’s house. Footfalls that shouldn’t exist, because he and Amy and Tyler and Kathryn and Mark are all in the living room, and there _shouldn't_ be anyone else in the house. 

“Does… Does anyone else hear that?” he asks, hesitantly, because his hearing has never really been all that great and he so desperately wants to be proven wrong. 

Mark glances over at him, typical symptoms of anxiety and over-thinking already playing across his features, and Ethan will feel awful for bothering him if it’s nothing. “Hear what?”

“It sounds like someone’s walking around,” Ethan explains. “Like – like someone’s upstairs. Can you not hear that?” 

They all still for a moment, listening for the sound their friend has gotten all worked up about, and Ethan notes with dim resignation that the footfalls soften, then slow, then stop. 

“I… I don’t hear anything,” Tyler murmurs, after a minute. “Are you sure you heard -?”

“Never mind.” Ethan runs a hand down his face, fingers digging into the space between his eyes for a moment before moving on. “Forget it. Sorry.” 

He tries to ignore the “subtle” glances his friends throw him every time he flinches at a particularly loud stomp after that. 

It doesn’t take long for him to start avoiding certain areas. There are shadows in the corner of his dining room that he’d rather not face, strange whispers that come from the top right kitchen cabinet, something always moving in his peripheral in Mark’s upstairs bathroom. 

The list goes on, but thinking about it for too long only seems to make things worse. 

He’s dealt with this before, if he’s being honest. 

There was a period of time where he couldn’t sleep – nightmares plagued him every single time he did, and eventually he became too scared to even stay in his bed. 

It was simultaneously the most and least productive he’s ever been. 

But – the same thing happened, then. His nighttime fears transferred over into daily life, manifesting in creeping, pulsing shadows and small infuriating sounds that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times someone else said they weren’t there. His hygiene tanked, being too scared that someone was peering into his bathroom window or had set up a camera in some tiny crevice to fully enter the room. He was at one of the lowest points he had ever been in. 

Eventually, he ended up curled up on Mark’s couch, sobbing, shivering in the smothering heat of the room and being too terrified of everything around him to fully articulate anything, let alone what was wrong. 

The older man had panicked, and threatened to call Ethan’s therapist (which he was even _more_ terrified of, funnily enough) until he had finally scooped his friend up into a tight hug, letting him have the best sleep he had had in a month. 

It was neither of their proudest moments, but Ethan was slowly able to sleep more frequently, and the hallucinations abated. 

When he brought it up to his therapist, eventually, she had said the same thing – they were probably caused by a lack of sleep in the first place, and would likely never continue unless he became that seriously sleep deprived again. 

The thing was, he wasn’t sleep deprived. He had been getting a full six to eight hours every night. 

So why were the same things happening? 

Amy notices, eventually. She tilts her head when he shies away from the sink, dead sure he can see the mold circling the base of the faucet is growing, and points it out when he flinches at the sound of a slamming outside no one else seems to hear. 

“Ethan? Are you okay?” she asks, hand reaching out to comfort him. He flinches away. 

“Fine! Why?” 

There must be something wrong with his tone, because Mark turns to look at him, too, a hint of the same concern he had all those months ago when Ethan was curled up on his couch finding its way to the surface. “You’ve been acting weird lately,” he adds, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. “Are you… y’know, again?” And with that, Ethan’s suspicions are confirmed. 

“Y’know?” Tyler parrots, eyes darting back and forth between the two. “What do you mean?” 

Instead of answering him, Ethan just shakes his head. It’s different, this time, and he doesn’t know why. He’s not even sure if he’s... hallucinating, anymore. Maybe the lighting was being funny? 

Or, the more terrifying (yet common) thought – maybe everything he was seeing was real. 

“No,” he denies with a shaky smile. “I’m – I’m fine. No funny business.” 

Tyler opens his mouth again, but Mark cuts him off with a raised hand and glance Ethan knows means the two are going to talk about this later. Knowing he’s lost for now, the man just nods and sits back into the couch again, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Even though Ethan feels awful for leaving him out, he’s glad to not have another person join in knowing the fucked-up state of his mental health. 

After a quick reassurance from Mark that they can talk anytime Ethan needs to – the barest of responses – no one brings it up again. 

Until Ethan starts seeing something sitting in the shadows surrounding the bathroom while they’re trying film, that is. 

“What the _fuck_ is that?” He scoots away from the creepy _thing_ , and subsequently away from the others, too. There’s a new tremor in his hands that wasn’t there before, and he can feel his heart rate pick up. Surely he wouldn’t be reacting to something that wasn’t real, right?

Tyler’s head whips around to where Ethan’s looking, eyes flicking back and forth over the area, before helplessly turning back to him. “I don’t see anything there, Ethan,” he says, concern washing over his expression. 

Mark nods in agreement, and Ethan feels like he’s finally losing it. 

“No! I swear to _god_ -” the thing moves, and he bites back a scream. “ _Mark what the fuck is in your house?_ ” 

Mark looks back and forth from the bathroom to Ethan, desperately trying to see what he does, before carefully walking over to him. He’s moving slowly, slower than he has any right to, but Ethan still trembles and trips over himself anyway, falling onto his ass on the cold hardwood floor. 

“Ethan -” Mark starts, crouching down to be at his level. “Ethan, look at me. Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real. Can you tell me it’s not real?” 

Nodding along, he looks over at the bathroom, half-expecting the thing to be gone because Mark willed it to be so. 

It’s not. Ethan sobs. 

“It’s – it’s still there!” he cries, hands grasping and tearing at the fabric of his hoodie. “Why aren’t you doing anything – it’s _still there!_ ” 

Amy comes up behind him, footsteps blending in so neatly with the ones he’s been hearing every so often that he doesn’t notice her until she’s placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he jerks away. “Don’t! Don’t – touch me!” 

Her eyes widen, but she complies, slowly scooting back and crouching down next to Mark. When his breathing has leveled off slightly, she silently hands her phone to him – a picture of the bathroom on the screen. 

Except. There’s no Thing. 

He pulls the phone closer to his face, scrutinizing the image for any sort of trickery but coming up empty. “W-what?” He looks back at the bathroom – where the Thing is still sitting, smiling menacingly, and then back at the phone. “It’s – it’s not…?”

“How much sleep have you been getting, Eth?” Mark asks kindly, shuffling towards him. He holds out his hand gently, and Ethan grasps onto it, fingers closing around his in a vice-like grip and acting as his only tether to reality. “I told you you could come here and sleep if you needed to.” 

“I have slept.” Ethan bites out. His hand shakes against Mark’s, and he takes a quick, harsh inhale. Somewhere in the house, it echoes back at him. “I’ve been sleeping. Full – full eight hours last night.” 

Mark clearly doesn’t believe him, but he smiles and nods anyway, patting his hand in what is supposed to be caring way, but only comes off as patronizing. “Did you talk about this with your therapist?” 

Shaking his head, Ethan tries to pull his hand away from Mark’s. “No. I was going to, though,” he lies. “Next – next appointment. I was gonna bring it up.” 

His eyes dart to the Thing, still sitting in the shadows. It’s smiling now – large yellow-white teeth gleaming in the darkness. He was never going to tell her. 

Mark nods, and gently cups his over hand over Ethan’s with a sad smile. 

Tyler comes over to where they are, too, crouching down on the other side of Mark and peering at him with big concerned eyes. “What’s going on?” he asks, soft like he’s trying not to startle Ethan into another meltdown. 

He appreciates the effort. 

“Uh – there’s… there’s a thing by the bathroom,” Ethan hesitantly admits, not keen on sharing this side of him but knowing it’s rude to leave Tyler out, “and none of you can see it. Obviously. This happened before when I didn’t get enough sleep and Mark made me sleep.” 

Tyler hums, and sits down fully. He knocks his foot against Ethan’s own with a timid smile. 

Fuck. He’s made them think he’s crazy.

Finally coming down from whatever paranoia-induced high he had hopped on, he takes a deep breath and glances over at the bathroom one final time. 

There’s nothing there. 

He _is_ crazy. 

“I think I’m going to go -” he stammers out, kicking away Tyler’s foot and finally pulling away from Mark. “I – I need to… go lay down.” 

“Wait, Ethan, you can’t drive like this,” Amy cuts in, tugging gently on his sleeve before he can go too far. “You can stay here – please.” 

Shaking his head, he yanks his sleeve away from her, too, wincing at how rude the action was. “Sorry. But I – I can’t stay, I’ve freaked out on you all enough -”

“I’d rather you freak out here than at home.” It’s Mark who speaks, and when Ethan looks at him he sees he has the same no-nonsense tone that he had when he threatened to call his therapist the first time. “You’re not doin’ too hot, man. Please stay here so we can at least have some peace of mind.” 

There’s a scream outside. No one else flinches. 

Getting even more worked up, he shakes his head again, stumbling back even farther from them. He doesn’t want to stay here – doesn’t want them all to see him like this – and needs to find a way out. “I… I’ll call my therapist when I get home, promise, just please let me go!” 

It’s starting to feel like the walls are closing in on him, and he doesn’t know if it’s his own anxiety, one of the hallucinations, or if the universe has finally decided it’s his time to go. He doesn’t want to risk it.

“I can’t… I need to go, just let me go!” He pleads again, even though no one had argued against him. Tyler moves towards him, and he scrambles back, clutching at his hoodie again. 

“Ethan, calm down,” Amy murmurs, though it’s lost on him as he grabs for his shoes. “Ethan!” 

He’s about to open the front door and rush out with all of the grace of a flailing goose, but Mark catches up to him first, a hand clenching around his wrist and pulling him back into the main room. 

“Hey!” he cries, jerking to get away from him. “H- _ey_ , let me go!” 

“You know I can’t do that,” Mark says, nothing but kindness in his voice and eyes. 

Ethan does know. He would never let one of his friends leave in such a state, after all. 

Hesitantly, he sits back down on the floor, and watches warily as the others adjust to accommodate him back into their little circle. They keep casting little looks at him and each other, and he kind of wants to cry.

“Okay,” Mark starts, finally having gotten into a comfortable position. “Let’s talk.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm starting to think it's not sleep deprivation, either
> 
> anyway i hope y'all enjoyed this? and are maybe interested in me continuing it? bc. yea this is just me projecting onto Ethan so i'll probably have a couple more chapters to add on lmao 
> 
> (side note: please Don't suggest that anything ethan's seeing is real - i have no Clue if y'all actually will, so this is just a little preemptive action. they are All hallucinations. Every single one of them. thank u i love yall)


End file.
